Breathless
by magnessina
Summary: "He has never seen the appeal of sex before." a short non-magical AU ficlet and prompts from that verse.
1. Breathless

**A/N: a very short non-magic AU ficlet, posted previously on tumblr. My first Rumbelle thing, about which I was so very worried, you've no idea. Hope you enjoy. **

**It is to be treated as complete, although I got some prompts from tumblr readers, which will be published as next chapter(s).**

**Also, gosh, I feel like I totally stole the title from my favourite POTO author, but it occured to me after I've posted it on tumblr, so I'm so so sooo sorry, Edka!**

* * *

><p>He had never seen the appeal of sex.<p>

Honestly, he hadn't.

There is this stereotype, isn't there? Men are said to think about sex every few minutes, to _beg _their wives for a quickie – or any sort of attention, really – and if their wives are… unwilling, they simply find what they crave in other women.

Mr Gold was quite certain there was something wrong with him, then.

His marriage to Milah, short as it was, did nothing to wake that part of him. He found her beautiful, true, and he was pretty sure he loved her. For a while, at least. Nonetheless, their first time was awkward and not _that_ spectacular at all; it didn't get any better after that, sadly. At some point they stopped trying altogether.

And he was relieved.

He didn't have to come home in the evening anxious, wondering whether his wife would want to… do that again.

So when he wakes up in the middle of the night, panting, with his palms fisting the sheets and his cock painfully hard, he is quite shocked.

What surprises him even more is realising who he has been dreaming about.

Miss French.

_Belle_.

Storybrooke's new librarian.

A very young, very beautiful and very bright woman.

A woman who doesn't find him intimidating but smiles at him when he visits her library to collect the rent, and who laughs at his snarky remarks on pretty much everyone who lives in Storybrooke. A woman who seems very intelligent and who's got a great sense of humour.

And also a woman who wears the shortest and ridiculously girly skirts, the prettiest blouses hugging her soft curves and those _bloody heels _that make her legs look like a sin.

Yes. It is surprising.

Recalling his dream, Mr Gold sighs deeply.

Perhaps, sex with the right person can, after all, be appealing.


	2. Off Balance

**Prompt by ****_anonymousnerdgirl:_**_Breathless prompt: Gold catches Belle as she falls from a step ladder in the library. It's the first time he's ever touched her in spite of weeks of longing._

* * *

><p>Mr Gold has never been so nervous about collecting rent before.<p>

Ever.

It has been almost three weeks since those damn dreams started.

Yes, _dreams_. He would wake up almost every night nowadays, breathless, his head full of images of Miss French. Somehow, she was always the protagonist.

At first he was glad. Happy, even. He finally responded in a healthy way to a very beautiful woman; for the first time in his life he felt like a real, normal man.

The lack of interest in women had been truly a little bit worrying.

But those dreams keep happening and it is getting… _uncomfortable_, for Mr Gold absolutely refuses to take matters into his own hands, so to speak. He hasn't jacked off since he was a teenager so he will most certainly not do this now, when he is a respectable forty-three-year-old.

However, now that he is about to visit Miss French in her library, he so wishes he had.

He takes a deep breath before walking in into the building.

"Miss French?" he calls out when he doesn't see her at the reception desk.

"In here," she answers. Gold follows the sound of her voice and _holy hell this is going to be hard. _

Uh, _difficult_, that is.

He finds her without any problems; she's sorting some books in the romance section.

The thing is, Miss French is standing on a step ladder.

Not a very high one, no.

But high _enough _for her perky bum to appear right in front of his eyes.

She's wearing a simple black shirt, that clings to her body in a very distracting way, and a puffy blood-red skirt, which is definitely way too short. Not that he'd ever complain about it. On the contrary, wearing a longer skirt could be considered a crime as far as Miss Belle's legs are concerned.

"I, uh, came," he _can't _remember the reason why he visited her here; not when he notices the pumps she's wearing. "Rent. I came to collect rent," Gold clears his throat.

"Oh, of course, Mr Gold," she laughs a little. "Let me just finish with these and I will- _oh bloody hell_," she squeals.

Many things are happening all at once.

She loses her balance as she turns around to put the book on the shelf.

He drops his cane.

She falls down.

He catches her instinctively.

His bad ankle screams in agony but he can't even be bothered to pay any attention to its protests; not when he's holding Belle in his arms and she's so soft and warm and tiny and she smells _oh so beautifully_ and she's smiling at him and she's just so damn close.

Gold cannot help himself. He recalls his dreams; how she would gasp for air in these visions, how she would moan his name, how _good_ it felt to ravish her.

He can feel his trousers tightening and he nearly drops Belle himself.

"Looks like you're my hero today, Mr Gold," she murmurs, still beaming at him. He makes sure she's standing up properly before he lets her go.

"Yes, looks like it," he grumbles.

"I think I owe you a cup of coffee," she tells Gold as she hands him the cane. Then she disappears. He follows her to her desk, quite awkwardly.

"Whatever for?"

"You saved my life! I could've broken my neck or something!"

"I think you shouldn't wear such shoes to work, Miss French. It's dangerous," Gold shrugs, hiding the envelope she gave him in his pocket.

"Yes, yes, thank you, but no. So, about that coffee?"

"I will, ah- it's no matter. You don't owe me anything, Miss French."

"But-"

"Goodbye," he bids before she can say anything else.

"We're not done here," she giggles.

_Cold shower. _

_Please please please._


	3. Much Too Much

**To be honest, I didn't expect you to approve of this verse so much; I'm glad you do, though! Thank you for each and every review/favourite/follow. I appreciate you giving this story a shot so much. **

**Due to popular demand, here's the next installment. I've got one more planned. However, this is an open-prompt verse — should you have any ideas or wishes as to how this story should continue — drop me a line, here or on tumblr (lilygarlands is my name there.)**

**This ficlet is rated T. Enjoy!**

* * *

><p>A few days after that step ladder fiasco, Mr Gold's ankle is still in an extremely bad shape. He can barely walk, even with the help of his cane — while Belle was certainly not heavy, it was enough for his lame leg to completely refuse to cooperate.<p>

And God, is he angry about that.

That damn ankle reminds him with his every step — literally — that he cannot compete with younger men. Belle is, what, twenty five? Twenty six? And he is old, crippled, vile and hated by everyone in this stupid town.

It's best he gives up now, tries to get over this silly infatuation with the girl and goes on with his life.

Easier said than done, though.

Mr Gold groans when he hears the bell chim. It means he has to get up and deal with whoever came to visit and he wishes he had closed this place earlier today.

He is so not in the mood.

It changes when he sees who exactly just entered his pawnshop.

Yes, his mood gets even worse.

"Hello, Mr Gold!" Belle greets him, smiling. He raises his eyebrow and clears his throat.

"Miss French? Is there anything with which I can help you?"

"Well, you did save my life," she laughs, casting a look at her hands. Only then does Gold notice that Belle's holding two cups of coffee, most probably ones she bought at Granny's. It's true, she did say something about owning him some coffee, but he dismissed it. He did say it was alright.

So why is she here?

"I told you you didn't have to."

"I wanted to," Belle replies, smiling at him again. "Also, as I was entering your shop, the mayor was driving by. She almost crashed her car when she saw me with these cups. Thought you'd like to know."

"She's gonna go mad, wondering what's going on," Gold chuckles darkly. He does dislike Regina.

Well, and everyone else, actually.

That's not the point.

"Will you accept it or should I just drink both as you watch me?" Gold clears his throat and thanks her quietly, taking the cup from her hand. He takes a sip and sighs quietly; dark, bitter coffee. How did she know?

"I can't believe I've never visited your shop before, Mr Gold," Belle says, looking around. She seems to like what she sees as an even wider smile spreads across her face.

He can't look away.

If that's possible, she looks even more beautiful today. Her hair is straightened and she is wearing a white stripped shirt and one of her notorious skirts, this time black. And so very short.

"Well, Miss French, you probably know that people vist me either when they want to delay their payments or when they're desperate enough to deal with me. Not many of them are interested in antiques."

"That's a pity, I find older things maginificent."

Does it apply to men?, he thinks. Probably not.

"They have this kind of magic about them, you know?," Belle continues. "You look at an item that someone was holding many, many years ago and it's just so fascinating."

"I do agree," he nods.

"Do people really try to delay their payments?"

"You're exceptional, Miss French. Not everyone in this town pays their rent when it's due."

She hums at that, and they spend the next fifteen minutes just talking about various posessions found in Gold's shop. She is truly interested in antiques and as the time progresses, he gets more and more into this topic, as he's never had anyone to talk to about his one true passion.

"As much as I hate to say that, Mr Gold, I'm afraid I have to be leaving you now. I do need to open the library if I want to have the money to pay you," she giggles and despite how much he tries not to, Gold smiles at her.

As she opens the door, he suddenly asks her, "Miss French, may I know how old you are?"

"Why?" She chuckles.

"I don't know. Probably shouldn't have asked but I was wondering why I've never seen you here before— "

"I'm twenty three."

He coughs.

"I graduated last year and instead of staying in Boston, I decided a quiet life in a small town was my true destination. The position of a librarian in Storybrooke was like a gift from heaven, so I moved here in April and here I am."

Four months. She's been here for four months before he really noticed her. He would visit the library every two weeks to collect rent and never looked at her twice.

Perhaps because she could be his bloody _daughter_.

"Goodbye, Mr Gold."

"Goodbye Miss French. Thank you for the coffee."

She offers him one of her brilliant smiles once more and disappers behind the door. He glances down at the bulge in his trousers and sighs deeply. That was to be expcted. He really cannot pretend he is above wanking in the shower.

The problem must be got rid of.


	4. Enough Is Enough

**I honestly cannot thank you enough for your fantastic feedback. I've never thought you'd like this verse so much. You're all so nice and kind and just plain lovely, and it puts such a smile on my face it won't go away for hours afterwards. Thank you so much, once again, and boy do I hope I won't disappoint you with this one.**

**If you go to my profile page, there's a wee tiny extra, which is available on my tumblr: Anonymour wondered what Belle thinks about our Mr Gold. You can check it out. **

**This part is rated M. Never written a wanking ficlet before, not even in my native language so.. yeah. Enjoy? :)**

* * *

><p>He closes his shop earlier that evening, determined to finally do what has to be done. He's gonna behave like the man that he is and tackle the pressing issue.<p>

Meaning, he's gonna jerk off.

He shudders at the thought, disgusted with himself. The happiness of healthy responses to Miss French has been replaced with distaste. His own body's betraying him again. First the bloody ankle, now… his manhood.

Gold's mood is getting worse and worse.

When gets home and enters his bedroom, he doesn't quite know how to go about… all of this.

For a moment, he's considering not giving in to these urges. Again. It's been almost three weeks since the dreams started, since _she _started. Surely, he can suppress his silly lust.

The tingling he feels below his belt tells him otherwise.

Sighing, he shrugs off his jacket and loosens his tie.

"Damn her," he mutters. Deciding against hopping into the shower, he lies down on the bed and closes his eyes.

This should not be that hard.

Men supposedly wank all the time. This should be natural.

Why does he feel so awkward, then?

Tentatively, his hand unbuttons his trousers and slips beneath his boxer briefs. He's half-hard already; has been for quite some time.

Few hours, give or take. No wonder he's so bloody annoyed.

A gasp leaves him when his hand first brushes against his shaft. How long has it been since he last pleasured himself? He honestly cannot remember. With Milah he completely lost interest in this aspect of life; Belle seems to have awaken it again.

After a few experimental strokes, instincts do kick in. Soon he's fisting the sheets, trying to hold still as he pumps himself. It's not difficult to get lost in the fantasy – his mind has been supplying him with images of Belle in all kinds of situations. Mostly, the kinky ones.

He grips his cock more firmly.

He can picture her in one of her damn circle skirts and wearing insane heels, smiling sultry at him as she touches him. She would whisper all sort of naughty things into his ear and she would wrap her delicate fingers around him and he'd moan her name, just like he's doing now, and she'd be so pleased to hear it.

And when he'd touch her, when he'd slide her knickers to the side and really touch her, she'd be so wet for him, all for him, and only for him.

The orgasm takes him by surprise.

His back arches from the bed and his breath catches in his throat.

It's never been like that before.

He's never felt such powerful waves of ridiculous heat racing through his body, he's never felt so alive, the pleasure has never been so blinding.

His heart is pounding in his chest and his suit is ruined and he probably should care but he cannot bring himself to.

Miss French just made him come like no one has before and he wonders how he is ever going to face her again.

As if the dreams didn't leave him _breathless _enough.


	5. Perfect Little Accident

**I cannot thank you enough for your endless support, your lovely comments and kudos. I appreciate everything so much. I had no idea this would actually get some plot going on, but here it is. Enjoy!**

**All mistakes are mine and mine alone — I'll probably notice them tomorrow when I wake up. So sorry. Please, forgive the Pole and shhh, I'm not studying English (I am, shh).**

**This ficlet is rated... T/M, idk man. I hate ratings.**

* * *

><p>Mr Gold eyes each person that passes him by very carefully. He's trying to look extra menacing today, so that nobody notices that, in fact, he hasn't felt this relaxed in years.<p>

Who would have thought that jacking off could do such wonders to your mood?

He slept peacefully all night, no dreams of Belle hunting him this time, and woke up cheerful – or at least as cheerful as he can possibly be – and well-rested.

That's why he's frowning so hard right now, lest people stop finding him intimidating.

He's concentrating so hard on this task that he is oblivious to Miss French walking from the opposite direction; only when she collides with his chest does he notice her. She bumps right into him with such force that they both have to work really hard not to fall flat on their bums.

"Oh my God," she squeaks, squeezing his arm. "I am so sorry, Mr Gold!"

"Miss French," Gold clears his throat, looking at her. He can't help it; she takes his breath away, as always; someone so tiny shouldn't be this enticing, for heaven's sake. "Are you okay?"

"Are _you_ okay? I am so sorry, I didn't see you!" She smiles apologetically.

"No wonder. Don't you think it's quite irresponsible to walk around Storybrooke with your nose in the book?"

"People usually get out of my way at this point," she giggles adorably. "I can't seem to stop doing this. They've learnt their lesson over time, I guess, and just let me be."

"I'm beginning to think you've got a death wish; climbing ladders in pumps, walking around town and reading simultaneously… Really, Miss French," he chuckles. He doesn't mean to, no, but he's talking to the woman who's accidentally given him the best orgasm of his life and… it just happens.

She smiles at him then, squirming her blue eyes a little.

"As long as you're there to catch me, I think I'm safe."

He coughs.

"You know, I had a lovely time yesterday in your shop," she says quickly, as if before she can think better of it.

"I… did enjoy myself as well," he nods. He doesn't know what to say, really. It's sort of difficult to talk to the woman one imagines naked almost every evening now.

"Really?" Belle seems surprised. "I'm glad, then. I think I may need to bother you again soon. Ruby's birthday is fast approaching, and she's my only friend here, so I thought you'd help me find a gift for her."

"I'll do my best." Then, just because he's an old pervert and should not do this, should let her be, should just accept the fact he's going to be alone for the rest of his life, Mr Gold adds, "Today's Saturday. I'm closing my shop earlier, and then I shall go to Granny's and have some coffee."

She blinks, not understanding why he's telling her that.

Then it clicks.

"Should I, completely fortuitously, happen to show up at Granny's as well…"

"…the seat next to mine shall be empty. By coincidence."

"And what time will you be drinking your coffee? Not that I intend to be there. Just... curious. It's in human nature, you know."

"Around 4. You know, very casually. No occasion whatsoever."

"I'm not planning on going there, yeah. In case the smell of an apple pie draws me in, though…"

"We might see each other. Highly unlikely, yet it is possible."

"Hardly. But who knows!"

With a gorgeous smile, she lets go of his arm and walks away.

He can hear her loud titter until she disappears around the corner.

And Gold can only shake his head; how is he ever going to drink his coffee with Belle without throwing her down and shagging her into a puddle?


	6. Here Comes the Flood 1

**Oh, dear. **  
><strong>It's THE date.<strong>  
><strong>I was aiming for funny and quirky, but this chapter got away from me very fast. So I've decided to split it into two parts, the first one is deep, the second one is shameless. Hope you won't hate it :) <strong> **Once again, thank you so much for all of your comments and kudos. I appreciate them so, so much!** **Also, if you take a look at my profile, I've linked the second Breathless's extra there. **

* * *

><p>Mr Gold closes his shop at quarter to four. The walk to Granny's takes approximately five minutes, but he's feeling so anxious about this whole thing, he figures it's better to be safe than sorry.<p>

_It was a bad, bad idea_, he thinks as he orders his black coffee. Ruby raises her eyebrow at him when Gold tells her he'll be drinking it at the diner; usually he just buys his coffee and leaves, not bothering to spend more time engaging with the citizens of Storybrooke than it's absolutely necessary.

This time, however, he sits in one of the booths in the corner. He anxiously glances at the clock that shows it is, indeed, four on the dot.

She will be here any moment.

That is, if she took his offer seriously.

She didn't exactly said she'd be there; they joked and messed around, she could've just shrugged it off.

It was a bad, bad idea.

Five more minutes pass and Gold's ready to stop this madness and leave; ready to pretend that he's not just been – to some extent, at least – stood up. Then, the door opens and a gasp leaves him.

Miss French is here.

And she's glowing.

She looks around and spots him immediately; she smiles gently and orders iced tea as Ruby excitedly greets her.

She hasn't changed her attire, Gold notices, for which he's grateful. He saw her in that particular outfit this morning, so he has been prepared for the sight and, therefore, manages not to groan out loud. Sort of.

He's quite aware of the stares as Belle makes her way to the booth he's occupying.

"Mr Gold," she smiles sweetly at him. "What a lovely surprise!"

"Miss French," he plays along and stands up. "I did not expect to see you here, after all."

"Does your offer still stand, though? Is this seat taken?"

"Not at all. Would you like to join me?"

"I would love to, thank you," Belle nods. He waits for her to be comfortably perched on her seat before sitting down himself. When Ruby comes with their orders, Gold notices she winks at Miss French.

Which is strange; he'd expect a different reaction, considering that the two of them are apparently friends.

"I must admit, Mr Gold, that I am surprised you… hinted at being here today and implied you wouldn't really mind if I joined you."

"Are you?" Well, so is he, let's be real. "We drank coffee together once, I thought it wouldn't hurt to do that again."

"I thought you hated the first time!"

"What? Why would I? I mean, we always chat when I come to the library to collect the rent."

"Well, yes. But these conversations are ten minutes long. When you saw me with those cups, you looked as if you wanted to be anywhere but there. With me."

Gold hates himself so much at this moment. He was, indeed, wary and unpleasant, he admits. He should've tried harder.

But then again, at that time he was desperate to get over her.

Now he's not sure he wants to.

"I should apologise, then, Miss French. I'm not very good at showing affection, I guess. I did appreciate your gesture and I did have a good time talking to you."

"It's… it's okay. I'm sorry, I'm making you feel bad, aren't I? I didn't mean to."

"You thought I had hated you, which I assure you is not the case, and I was just shocked beyond belief you willingly visited my shop," Gold smiles softly.

Belle bursts into giggles, then, and says, "We're both so silly!"

"That we are," he agrees.

Gold cannot help himself and asks, "Are you really that surprised that we're here?"

Belle is quiet for a few moments.

She probably is; she's probably shocked an old fool like him would ever think about asking out a gorgeous woman like her.

"Yes," she replies. "I am. You don't really interact with anybody. Ever. And people hardly notice me in this town anyway. So yes, I'm surprised you don't mind us getting another drink together."

"Oh, I beg to differ," he chuckles. "People notice you."

Honestly, it is hard to miss the young librarian in her pretty clothes and colossal stilettoes, running around Storybrooke with a giant smile on her face.

"Not really, no. I thought moving here from Boston would mean I'd make many new friends, you know? This town is so small, everybody knows each other, and yet it is hard to find somebody to talk to. Don't get me wrong; I love it here. It's just… Sometimes it gets lonely."

It does. It does get lonely.

But having been divorced for fifteen years now, he's got used to it.

She's young, though; of course she craves company.

"I notice you," Gold says quietly, not meeting her eyes.

She's beautiful, she is, but he does notice that her body and face are not the only things I admires. Her mind is beautiful, too.

"You do now. You have, for the last couple of weeks or so. You hadn't spared me a second glance before." There's no accusation in her tone. She's just telling it as it is. And she's right. "I think people seem to enjoy power in this town. I don't care about it, so I stick to my books. And turn invisible."

"Well, Regina seems to dislike you. So you must be doing something very good for Storybrooke."

"Good," Belle seems to brighten up at that. "Oh Gosh, perhaps the reason why people still have not warmed up to me yet is because I turn every conversation into a melodrama?" She sighs, shaking her head. "Again, Mr Gold, I'm sorry. It was supposed to be a nice meeting after work and I'm making it all sad and mope-y. I swear I don't sulk very often."

"You're not. I'm quite… enjoying your perspective, I must admit. And if you do feel like you haven't got enough friends around here, then… Miss French, I'm Aidan Gold. It's a pleasure to make your acquaintance."

She smiles at him in a way that makes his heart flutter in his chest.

"My name's Belle and the pleasure is all mine, Aidan," she says, shaking the hand he offers her firmly.

It's the first time they really touch.

Gold wants _more. _

"Well, what do we have here!" The moment is ruined by Regina Mills herself, who decides to interrupt them. Aidan closes his eyes; this cannot be good. "I can't believe you, Gold. To use your influence and trick the young, innocent librarian into having cute little dates with you? That's low. Even for you."

"Oh, Madame Mayor," Belle answers her instead, when he's frantically thinking of what to say. "You've got it all wrong. It is me who did the tricking; I slammed right into him in the street and the poor guy felt so bad he asked me out for a coffee. Lucky me. I mean, have you ever _seen _him? I think you're jealous!"

"Jealous? Me?" Regina scoffs. "Please. By all means… have a good time."

She's being insincere. Belle doesn't mind, though. "Oh, we will."

Regina lifts her perfectly shaped eyebrow at them, turns around and leaves.

Gold heavies a sigh.

"I'm sorry I didn't say anything," he begins, closing his eyes. Belle seems to realise what happened to him.

"It's because you know that's what the rest of the town thinks, right? That it's a trickery? The damsel falling into a trap? Even though it's not true?"

He doesn't say anything.

"Wanna leave?"

Gold's eyes snap open to see Belle smiling warmly at him.

"Yeah."

"Then let's go."


	7. Here Comes the Flood 2

**As promised, this part of the date got rather... delicious. So I'd say it's rated M. Thank you for your wonderful comments and endless support; as you can see, the story is marked as complete, so I'll see if I can come up with more ficlets in this verse. For now, enjoy!**

* * *

><p>Mr Gold doesn't quite comprehend what is happening at the moment.<p>

Apparently, he's walking around Storybrooke with the adorable librarian chattering happily about her job and how she ended up living with Ruby, but he has a hard time believing it is actually true.

He fears he's dreaming; it wouldn't be that shocking, considering that his dreams, in which Belle always plays the role of the leading lady, are pretty damn vivid.

In order to convince himself he's not asleep, he purposely twists his ankle just a bit as he walks, and contentedly welcomes the sharp pain that shots through his lame leg.

Unfortunately, his quiet whimper does not escape his companion.

"Are you okay?" Belle asks him.

"Yes, yes, quite. It's… the ankle. It has been acting up for quite some time now."

She bites down on her lip.

It's strangely arousing.

"You catching me not once, but twice, probably didn't help it either."

"I, ah– " he hesitates, trying to come up with a believable reassurance that no, he's not incapable of protecting her, his bad leg be damned. But she somehow senses it, and gasps, "Oh God, it's me. Your ankle's been worse because you caught me!"

"It is nothing, Belle." It feels so good to finally use her first name.

"I am so sorry." She looks like she's on the verge of tears and Gold actually feels hurt – it's ridiculous, but he sure as hell doesn't want her to feel sorry for him.

"I don't need anyone's pity."

"It's not that," she shakes her head. "I'm just sorry I brought you pain."

"It's nothing I couldn't handle. It'll be just fine in a few days or so."

"Still. I feel like I owe you ice cream."

Gold chuckles.

"Belle, I swear you don't have to buy me things to tell me you're thankful or apologetic. I'm fine."

"Look, there's an ice cream stand over there. I'm gonna buy you the best ice cream you've ever eaten, trust me. I'm an expert when it comes to candy."

He just shakes his head with amusement, and can't bring himself to protest any further; her youthful energy and liveliness is rubbing off on him.

True to her word, the cone Belle bought him is truly delicious.

But that's not why he thanks all gods above that she's come up with this idea as they sit on one of the benches in the little Storybrooke's park.

The reason why he's suddenly absolutely in love with ice cream is because she's licking hers in the most sinful way imaginable.

Honestly, this woman seems to turn everything she does into a sexual action.

Her pink tongue swirls around the strawberry- flavoured scoop and he tries, he does try, yet he can't help but imagine what that tongue could do to his body.

It's a very disturbing image, because his wife never really… cared enough to focus on him, expecting Aidan to do all the work, while she would just lie there and complain the day after. That's why sex has become a sad duty, one he was glad to be rid of.

Belle has truly changed everything; the things he never knew he wanted… Yes, now he wants them very much.

To think about Belle licking every inch of his neck, and chest, and then teasing his erect shaft with that skilled tongue is just too much for him to bear, and his breathing is shallow, and he's probably blushing, too.

Again, this… date was a bad, bad idea.

"You have to hurry, Aidan, or your ice cream will be soon flowing down your sleeve," she giggles, gesturing at the hand holding his cone. He quickly remedies the situation, licking and sucking on his scoop so that it doesn't melt completely.

When he looks at her, her sight is sort of hazy and she seems to be observing him in wonder.

"What, have I got something on my face?"

"What? No, no." She waves her hand. "Tastes pretty good, doesn't it?"

"It does, indeed." They sit in a comfortable silence for a little while, but then he decides he has to know. "Belle, may I ask you a question?"

"Why, of course. Just not about science, or something," she giggles. "I know many things about literature and linguistics, but maths and physics are not a favourite topics for a conversation."

"You think I want to ask you about kinematic equations and free fall?"

"Please don't. We can talk about English semantics, though, I went for a degree in linguistics."

"I thought you studied literature, hence the job in the library?"

"I took library science. It was an extra course, to be honest. Just so I could work in one. There are all sorts of books there, you know? It's not that I simply like to rid, per se. I didn't want to focus solely on language. I wanted stories, too."

He smiles at her, once again quite taken away with what she's saying.

"So, what was your question?"

"Why… why did you come to Granny's today?"

She thinks about it for a moment and then beams at him, "I wanted to see you again."

"It seems… unreal."

"It is quite real, Aidan. I was afraid you hated me. Now that I know you don't, I'd like to get to know you better."

"But why me?" He inquires.

"Are you really that surprised? Have you met you?"

"I have," he says, "and that's precisely where my question is coming from. I hate this town, I make deals with desperate souls, I don't forgive and I don't forget. I'm also much older than you, not handsome, and my leg is like cherry on top."

She shakes her head and takes his hand in hers, squeezing it gently.

"I see the man who makes deals with grown-up people who know exactly what that man is capable of. I see the man who is disliked by others because he keeps to himself and takes care of his business – people tend to hate those they have to give their money to. And I see the man who's extremely attractive with his long hair, perfectly tailored suits and his elegant cane. As for the age gap, I'm more worried you'll think me a silly child."

"I don't," he rasps.

"Good."

Perhaps, one day, his fantasies will come true.


	8. Beautiful Doom

_Prompt: Breathless!Gold discovers Belle's a virgin. Plus, she's drunk._  
><em>And her confession really leaves him breathless.<em>

**Remember what I said? Thesis, finals, graduation, no time, busybusybusy.**  
><strong>Well, clearly, I lied. <strong>  
><strong>Let us all thank that anon for this prompt, because I sure loved writing it. Hope you enjoy, too. <strong>  
><strong>Thank you for all the reviewsfavourites/follows you've left me. You're the best.**

Belle's outfit on my profile.

* * *

><p>Mr Gold smiles softly as he closes his shop in the evening.<p>

It startles him, even though it's been happening for quite some time now.

He guesses he's just not used to smiling for no apparent reason. Belle seems to be changing his life in more ways than he thought possible.

They have been going out for almost two weeks now. When they got past the awkwardness of their first date – trying not to say anything wrong, trying not to do anything silly, trying to be _perfect_, therefore striving for _impossible _– things have got easier. Now they have no problem with teasing each other mercilessly and laughing at the other person.

When they're not in public, that is.

Mr Gold's got, after all, a reputation to maintain.

The sound of loud giggles and heels clicking against the pavement snaps him out of his slight daze. He turns around and notices two young women approaching him.

They're laughing loudly, holding hands as they walk.

Or, rather, as they try to stay upright and actually move forward.

They're both piss drunk.

"Mr Gold, I've never thought I'd say this, but I'm so glad to see you!"

"Miss Lucas," Gold greets her. Ruby Lucas is Belle's friend, so he supposes he should stay civil. "Should I ask? Do I want to know?" Belle's looking at him, biting her lip, which is driving him mad. She's not saying anything, too, which is sort of odd.

"My birthday. Her perfect present. A few bottles of wine. Here we are," the Lucas girl explains, clearly being in a better state than his Belle.

_His. As if._

Gold nods, remembering their date in his shop, as he tried to help Belle pick out a gift for her friend. When she found a pendant from the early 20s, an elegant figure of a wolf in old silver, he might or might not have lowered the price a little, just because he couldn't stand the way the big, blue eyes kept staring at him as she gushed over how pretty it was.

He's smitten, he's not even going to deny it any longer.

"Could you…" Miss Lucas hesitates. "Could you take care of her for me? I sort of have a date… And I'm late already, we've lost the track of time at the Rabbit's Hole. Could you take her home? She's got her keys in her purse, and she's been talking about you all the time, anyway, so maybe you'd actually have a chance to spend some time together? I'm begging you, Mr Gold?"

"Of course" he agrees dumbly. Really, why does she even ramble so? She could just throw Belle in his arms and tell him to do something with her, and he'd take her home, tuck her in, make her tea and stay with her until she fell asleep.

He's got it _that_ bad.

"Thank you, Mr Gold!" Ruby exclaims, turning to Belle. "Now, you be good, and I'll see you in the morning."

Belle, who's stayed quiet the whole time, smiles at her and says, "Have fuuuun!"

Gold and Belle look at each other, not uttering a word, until Miss Lucas disappears around the corner. He swallows audibly as he studies her outfit; apparently she's decided to wear an even shorter dress than she normally does, and its deep red colour takes his breath away. She's wearing a multi strand pearl choker around her elegant neck, and oh god, she's _beautiful_. Why on earth hasn't he noticed it immediately? Why did it take him so long? Gold has got no slightest idea.

When Ruby is finally gone, a wide smile breaks across Belle's face and she says, "Why hello there, Aidan. What a lovely surprise!"

Gold chuckles, shaking his head at her.

"Just when did you two start the party? It's barely 7 in the evening."

"Around midday, I should think. I closed the library early today, and we've had aaaall day to celebrate. And talk. And stuff."

"And stuff," he repeats. "Come on, little one. Let's get you home. Can you walk or do you need a hand?"

"The shoes are being wild tonight, Aidan," she giggles. "I think they've drunk too much, they don't wanna go straight."

"I'm certain it is their fault," he nods, humouring her.

"I feel so bad," she pouts as she links their arms together. "Your ankle's just got better, and now you're gonna drag me through the town and it's gonna hurt again."

"It's no matter," Gold assures her. "It won't be that bad."

"I'll have to give it a massage, I think," she murmurs, tightening her hold on his arm. "And I'll make it all better."

He glances over at her, not sure if she intends to sound sultry or not. His perverted mind is imagining things, probably.

But she's looking at him in a way that makes his knees buckle.

So perhaps it's not only in his head.

"Don't you get rather chatty whilst tipsy!"

"I do," Belle giggles, furiously nodding her head. "Alcohol lowers my inhibitions to the point where I actually have none."

"That's very interesting. And duly noted," he replies, smiling at her.

They walk very slowly, Belle tittering like mad whenever she loses her balance in her colossal pumps. Gold can't wipe the stupid grin off his face; she's beyond adorable, and he sure as hell would have never thought he'd call a woman _adorable. _That's exactly what Belle is like, though: utterly and devastatingly cute.

When they reach the block of flats Belle lives in, Gold is quite pleased to notice she doesn't let him go. On the contrary, she snuggles against his side, her other arm coming to rest on the side of his neck. Soon enough, her whole body is pressed against his, and she's nuzzling the skin just below his ear.

He's going to have a heart attack, of this Mr Gold is quite sure.

"Oh, my," she whimpers. "You smell like sex."

_Farewell, cruel world. _

"W-what?" Gold gasps. Belle takes a step back so that she can look him in the eye.

"I've noticed you smell like sex. Not that I would know what sex smells like. But I imagine that if sex has a smell, it smells like you."

This is _too much _information to _process_, really, but…

_Not that I would know._

_I imagine. _

She did say that.

Gold may or may not groan out loud.

"Are you telling me that…" he trails off, clearing his suddenly dry throat.

Belle comes closer, and their mouths are mere inches from one another.

"Oops! I should've kept my mouth shut," she laughs, shaking her head. "Oh, well, whatever. Yes, you'll be my first," she whispers.

His blood travels south with such speed, he feels like he's going to pass out.

"I-I am?" Gold asks incredulously.

For a man who prides himself on masterfully toying with words and people, he sure gets quite stupid in her vicinity.

"Sure you are," Belle nods, still not moving away.

He's practically panting against her mouth.

"We've been on, what, six dates already? And no kiss? Gotta be remedied as soon as possible," she giggles. "You listen to me, Aidan, because I'll make you a deal. Our first deal," Belle smirks.

"Most people pray to God that they never have to utter these words, you know."

"Then I'm special! Here it goes, focus. When I'm sober, you're gonna give me a call, and then we're going to have another date, and on that date you're going to kiss the life out of me. What do you say?"

"Deal," he nods, agreeing to her terms immediately.

"Perfect. Thank you for escorting me." Belle smiles at him, and he's once again, turning into a blushing teenager.

He's over forty, god damn it.

"The pleasure's all mine," he answers, smiling back. As she turns around, her hip grazes his crotch, and he has to bite the inside of his cheek to keep himself from moaning. Her face is a picture of innocence, but truly, he'd be surprised if she couldn't feel his half-hard length.

"Yes. I suppose it was." Belle raises her eyebrow, confirming his suspicions. "See you soon, Aidan."

When the door closes after her, Mr Gold turns around and slowly walks home, leaning heavily on his cane, and enjoying the warm summer evening.

He has long since stopped fighting whatever it is that he feels when Belle's around. When the dreams first started, he was desperate to get over her – he thought it was only about sex, and he was sure he could live without it for the next twenty years or so. He had been doing just fine, after all, until his body recognised Belle as, apparently, its perfect mate.

Now, however, that they have started going out, he noticed all those little things that made him interested not only in her body, but also in her mind and personality. He enjoys their conversations, their teasing, and he absolutely adores her sense of humour. When she was certain that he truly _wanted _to spend time with her, that he wasn't only indulging her, Belle got comfortable and showed her true self.

And it was enchanting.

He gets so lost in his thoughts that he's surprised when he sees his pink house so soon; still, walking in his state has been rather cumbersome.

Thank God he's home at last, Aidan thinks, as he unlocks his front door.

He does treat Belle with the respect she deserves, but he's only a weak man, and the woman he's swooning over just confessed to him she was a virgin.

Gold tries to wank as little as possible, but he's going to go mad if he doesn't relieve himself.

He flops down on the couch, and hurriedly pulls himself out from the confinement of his trousers. He grips himself tightly, his imagination running wild.

He pictures her, those big, brilliant eyes looking at him, innocence written all over her face. She'd bite her lip, like she does sometimes, and she'd let him guide her, but also bravely discover new things herself.

He wonders if the sounds she makes in his dreams are the same she'd make in reality.

He strokes his shaft roughly as the image of her kneeling before him enters his mind.

No one has ever done that to him, and his breath is becoming ragged as he imagines Belle's inexperienced mouth exploring, and learning, _oh yes_, and then her hand would disappear between her own legs, and she'd moan around him, and suddenly he's _coming_, and it feels so fucking _good_.

Gold opens his eyes and grimaces at the mess he's made.

Then the realisation hits him: if he couldn't satisfy his wife, no matter how hard he tried, how could he ever satisfy Belle?

The woman who is more than twenty years younger than him, and probably expects him to teach her everything and show her what's the fuss all about.

And he really doesn't know.

He is sure sex must be great, better than what he's just felt, but his marriage experiences really disappointed him.

He's going to fail, and she's going to leave, just like Milah.

The only difference is, he thinks, that when Bella leaves, it's going to hurt more.


	9. What a Difference a Day Makes

**Oh, hi, hello, this is me.**  
><strong>I gained my degree, and now hold a BA in English Studies, so thank you for having been so incredibly patient and supportive. I appreciate it so much, and I bring some Breathless fluff with me. This is silly and probably not that exciting, but I sure hope some of you will find it interesting.<strong>

**This one's based on some of Laikin394's prompts. Thank you for that! **

**Anyway, do enjoy and... see you again, some time.**

* * *

><p><strong>In this installment...<strong>

**Mr Gold doesn't call, and Belle knows she's ruined everything. She tries to apologise and only makes things worse, so baking him an apple pie is the only logical thing left to do, really.**

**rated ****_T_**

* * *

><p>The next day comes, and Mr Gold doesn't call Belle, despite their deal.<p>

And he has never broken a deal in his life before.

She was drunk, he reasons with himself. It would be wrong - not that it's ever mattered. But this is Belle. She didn't mean that. True, they've gone out a few times, but it was too early to make another move. Besides, for heaven's sake, what was he supposed to do, really? Call her and say, "Hey, you've promised me a kiss whilst inebriated, and there may or may not have also been that bit about me being your first lover? Yeah, let's do that."

He thinks not.

So, Gold simply doesn't call her because this is the easier thing to do. Instead, he spends his Saturday morning trying to busy himself with something. Anything.

It's almost one in the afternoon and he's about to close the shop and go sulk a little in the silence of his pink house. He's going to pour himself some scotch and stop obsessing over Belle French. Or, at least, attempt to do the latter.

Then the front door swings open.

And Belle French, he sees.

"Mr Gold!" she gasps, as if the courage suddenly left her. "I mean… Hello, Aidan."

"Belle," he nods. This is so uncomfortable, for some reason. Last night they kept so close – they walked around town, their arms entwined, then almost kissed in front of Belle's block of flats, and today they can barely exchange pleasantries. Ridiculous.

"You haven't called and I…" Belle starts, nervously playing with the hem of her short skirt.

Gold struggles to maintain eye contact; the atmosphere awkward or not, this is still _her_. He desperately wants to feast his eyes on her insane body.

But, _again_, this is Belle.

He respects her too much to just _ogle _her. Nonetheless, it's hard.

"I haven't indeed. I just–"

"Aidan, wait," she interrupts him. "I actually came here to apologise for last night."

"Apologise?"

"Yeah. I mean, I know it changes nothing, but I just wanted you to know how sorry I am. I swear to all that is holy, I'm not this obnoxious on daily basis. Or this brazen, for that matter. It's just… We, Ruby and I, hadn't had time to talk lately, and yesterday was a perfect opportunity to catch up, but then alcohol happened, and… Well, you saw it."

"I did, but–"

"I know, I was being absolutely pathetic," she moans.

It's most distracting of her.

"The things I said to you, Jesus. Aidan, I'm so sorry. Truly, I am. I tried so hard for you to like me, and when you apparently… _do_, I fuck it up. I should've never let Ruby leave us alone. You wouldn't have seen me like that, and I wouldn't have scared you off."

This wrong, this is _all _so wrong, but every time Mr Gold wants to tell her so, she keeps interrupting him. She hasn't scared him off, as she put it, he just didn't want to take advantage of the things she told him when she wasn't quite herself. It seemed like an honourable thing to do. She just completely misinterpreted it.

"Belle," he starts, _again, _"if you would just be so kind as to actually let me finish my–"

"No, I can't let you do that. I don't wanna hear you tell me to leave," she says, coming to stand in front of him. Unfortunately, in her despair, Belle seems not to be able to control her body movements all that well, because as she puts her hands on top of the counter separating them, she knocks down a very expensive looking vase.

Gold doesn't even blink, not truly giving a damn about anything else but about the woman he has come to know and care about so dearly, who is currently looking as if she has just murdered somebody.

"I am so sorry," Belle cries out, absolutely horrified. She's gone pale and Gold can see tears shimmering in her eyes, and he's desperate to assure her it is fine, that he doesn't mind, that things like that _happen_. However, because Belle seems to be dead-set on not allowing him to utter a word at all today, she mutters, "I'm absolutely hopeless, I'm so sorry Aidan. I'll pay for everything."

And then she turns on her feet and leaves.

The day just couldn't get any fucking worse.

* * *

><p>Well, that wasn't true.<p>

Life has decided to prove Mr Gold wrong, and it turned out that this day could, indeed, get even worse.

So distraught was he on his way home, that he didn't notice a loose kerb stone and he stepped on it with his bad leg. Next thing he knew was an excruciating pain shooting up from his ankle towards his knee.

It's a miracle he managed to get home.

It does serve him well, though, he thinks to himself some time later. It's already dark outside, so it must've been hours. If he had called Belle like she had asked him to, none of this would have happened. They'd schedule a date, they'd go out, and he'd kiss the daylight out of her. Instead, he's lying on the sofa, all alone, the pain making his brain foggy, with no Belle to hold his hand or stroke his hair.

Not that he's a ninny. But he does find himself striving for basic human contact more and more often now.

No one has made a fuss over him in a very long time. It would be nice, probably, especially with Belle doing the fussing.

When the doorbell rings, he wants to die. And he definitely doesn't plan to actually stand up.

It keeps ringing, though, and it's driving him _mad_, so with great difficulty he gets up and goes see who it is.

When he opens the front door, Gold forgets all about the pain for a little moment. Not a very big surprise, too, seeing as it is Belle standing on his porch, holding something that smells rather delicious in her hands and looking at him sheepishly.

"Belle," he says, dumbstruck.

"That's me, alright," she giggles. "Aidan, could you forget that these last two days actually happened?"

"Well, I rather liked you tipsy. So this may be disappointing for me, but if you wish, I will do so."

"I would be very grateful, yes. I even baked you a super tasty apple pie to thank you for forgetting about my epic failure."

"What failure?" he asks, innocently. Belle giggles again, and he'd just swoon over this melodic sound if it weren't for his damn leg, reminding him of its poor condition. Belle obviously hears his sharp intake of a breath, and immediately looks alarmed.

"What's wrong?"

"Nothing," Gold tries to sound nonchalant. "My ankle's a little... sore today."

"What did you do?"

"I took an awkward step, that's all."

"May I come in?"

"Of course," he moves to let her in, and involuntarily hisses in pain.

"Oh God, a little sore, my arse. Good thing I seem to have promised you a massage. Off to the coach you go!"

Her bossing him around shouldn't be that hot.

He obeys her without a word, though.

As he sits on the sofa and waits for her to do whatever it is she intends to, he can't help but notice how nicely she fits there. Into his home, that is. She moves around as if she's been there before, making him a cup of tea and asking questions about his painkillers. She slices the apple pie she brought, and laughs triumphantly when she finds some ice cream in his fridge. It'll make the pie even better, she says.

Suddenly Gold cannot imagine his house without Belle.

And it's quite scary.

When she's done, she gives him his plate and puts the mug with green tea on the table next to him. She, herself, sits on the coffee table, in front of him, and tells him to put his bad leg on her lap. Gold is reluctant to do so, but when Belle raises an eyebrow at him, he lifts his bad leg and places it where asked without saying anything else.

She then touches him, and he's in heaven, he thinks. She's being very delicate and stays focused all the time so as not to hurt him even further, but at the same time applies pressure in all the right places, nearly making him lose his shit.

"Is that good?" she asks at some point.

"Perfect," Gold groans, closing his eyes and enjoying the feeling of his pain slowly but surely subsiding.

"Will you forgive me breaking your vase?"

"Obviously. It doesn't matter."

"It does. But I'm glad you're not angry."

"Accidents happen."

"To me more often than to others, but I guess you're right. Now that I know you're not angry and not in pain anymore... I actually came here for something."

"Whatever for?" Gold opens his eyes and looks at her, confused. He's got no idea what she can want from him.

"You did promise to kiss me."

Oh, that.

"Yes, that," she laughs. "And need I remind you what you're famous for? The whole, 'no one breaks a deal with Mr Gold' thing?"

"Well. I guess. If I must." He wipes his forehead theatrically.

"Kiss me, Aidan."

And he does.


End file.
